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1849–1903

XLVIII

William Ernest Henley

Gray hills, gray skies, gray lights, And still, gray sea — O fond, O fair, The Mays that were,

When the wild days and wilder nights Made it like heaven to be! Gray head, gray heart, gray dreams — O, breath by breath,

Night-tide and day Lapse gentle and gray, As to a murmur of tired streams, Into the haze of death.

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XLVIII · William Ernest Henley · Poetry Cove